


Don't Blame Me

by Amercat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Multi, Romance, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amercat/pseuds/Amercat
Summary: Meet Maria Almada: A hopeless romantic teenager who has never had a relationship in her entire life. Her hobbies include baking, making sure her sisters don't kill one another (she has three), making sure her best friend's don't get expelled (ugh, boys), and following the one rule she has always promised to never break: No dating. Well, until after Hogwarts, that is.Which becomes quite the problem when she falls in love with her best friend. James Potter II.I mean, could you really blame her?





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello there! Welcome to my story! This story is all about Maria Almada, who is sweet as candy and very much flawed (hey, i want her to still be like a real human-being) who falls in love with her best friend. Who - ahem - happens to be James Sirius Potter. Which seems amazing right? Welllllll, she has a no-dating rule that gets in the way. DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNN. 
> 
> Anyway. I hope you like this first chapter. I worked hard on it and have the next chapter all set, and the third is halfway there. I have a lot planned for this story. But reviews will be a lot of help, as I can't keep my determination/inspiration unless someone tells me they like what they read lol
> 
> Oh, and also, I own NOTHING. Zip. Nada. Only my very own characters. Especially innocent little Maria. And sassy ten year old Abelia. 
> 
> Carry on ;-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Numero Uno

AUGUST

1 

MY SISTER IS WEARING A dress shaped like a pastry. It's an ivory gown laced with tiny flowers and a sweetheart neckline. And she can barely make it through the doors of the church because it is so big. A ‘princess ball gown’, the bridal shop worker said when Dula tried it on. She and avó (Grandmother) cried. A lot.  
But all I can think about is how much she looks like a cake. And as I take my turn down the aisle in a yellow bridesmaid dress, I’m thinking about the cake I am going to bake sometime this weekend with her dress as inspiration. Dula would probably kill me if she knew it, but I know Daddy and my other sisters won’t tell.  
They never tattle.  
At least only when free desserts are involved.  
I stand on the left side of the pillar where I was instructed to yesterday during rehearsals. Giulia huffs beside me a moment later. She’s my younger sister, somewhere in the middle alongside me, and she would rather be laying around the house with a book in her hands than be at our oldest sister’s wedding. She is frowning so hard which isn’t out of the norm, but pictures will be taken during this sacred moment so I elbow her slightly and flash her a cheerful smile. She scowls back.  
Really? I want to say to her. I’d rather be at home too, working on my new baking experiment. But my life is filled with three sisters which means there are rules. And one of those rules are: attending and smiling at your sister’s wedding. Even if the dress you have to wear is bloody hideous.  
Our littlest sister Abelia, pretty much struts down the wedding aisle in a flower girl dress holding a basket of lily petals. She completely steals the show and knows it too. She is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. During rehearsals, she complained that ten years old was too old to be a flower girl but today she doesn’t seem to think so.  
She skips up beside us and I grin at her. “Nice show out there, flower girl.”  
“Obrigada.”  
“You’re ridiculous,” Giulia tells her.  
“You’re just jealous,” Abelia replied coolly.  
“Shh!” Celia puts a finger to her glossy lips at us. She’s Dula’s best friend from Hogwarts and therefore, the maid-of-honor. A title she wore a little too seriously. “The music is starting.”  
The three of us nearly snort when Dula finally enters the church. Her face has gone pink and her curls are a bit disheveled from the anxiety and nerves.  
I almost giggle but stop myself when she begins to walk down the aisle, a smile perfectly in place. A smile of like a hundred that she forced me to rate from 1-10 for hours last night. Asking me, Does this one seem too fake? Should I show a lot of teeth? No teeth? As if I am an expert when it comes to bridal smiling. But she bribed me with white macadamia cookies so it wasn’t like I had any other choice. Anyone who knows me knows how I can never say no to desserts.  
Her arm is linked through Daddy’s and he is smiling like a father would, but I know how he really feels.  
Daddy hates the Costa’s because they are from Portugal. Or, as he calls it, the mainland. You see, he is from the Azores, a small island in the mid-Atlantic near the coast of Portugal, occupied with fishing villages, blue hydrangeas, and so. many. cows. The Azores is basically the Hawaii to the States, without Stitch or pretty leis. Regardless, my sisters and I refer to it all as Portugal. Daddy and Mummy moved from the Azores to Britain when she was pregnant with Dula because she said Hogwarts was the best school in the world for witches and wizards. Even though my sisters and I acquire the british accent, Daddy still considers us all Portuguese before british. It’s our blood, period.  
It’s not really the fact that they are from Portugal that he hates. He says it’s because they think they’re better than the islanders. This is something he swears by, no matter how ridiculous we tell him it is.  
Almost as ridiculous as his one dating rule. Which is, well, no dating. At least until AFTER Hogwarts, that is.

 

*

Mr. Costa is holding up a glass of sparkling champagne with watery eyes and talking about the future and God’s plan, and marriage. More specifically, the marriage between Miguel Costa and Dula Almada. Well. I guess she's no longer an Almada now.  
Daddy does a very good job hiding how much he doesn't like the idea of Dula marrying a Costa, but I know him better than my sisters do. He always rolled his dark eyes behind Miguel’s back whenever he talked about his parents in the mainland over dinner and right now he is rolling his eyes and drinking a large pint of beer. Dula manages to still not notice any of it. Seriously?  
Daddy is literally grumbling under his breath and though I'm across the room and can’t hear him, I know he's swearing in his native tongue. But Dula is staring at Miguel, her face a weird mixture of emotions that I can't fully explain. He turns to her smiling and they share a sweet chaste kiss that gets Avó sobbing again. It’s all just so romantic that I could melt into a puddle in front of it all.  
And Daddy must be feeling the change in the air because he’s looking at her and not rolling his eyes or muttering to himself anymore. I wonder what he must be thinking: seeing his eldest daughter in a wedding dress. Married to a mainlander.  
Oh, the horror.  
Mr. Costa finishes his speech and people start shouting in reverie and downing their glasses at once. Especially my older cousins who drink and party like every weekend and post it all on Wizbook enough to make me feel like I’m at the clubs with them. Since I’m seventeen, Daddy allows me to have the champagne. But only one glass of champagne. Giulia looks up from her book surprised by the sudden loud room and takes the very last second to take a sip from her soda. Even after the room has calmed down, Abelia is still crying because she couldn’t have champagne. Dula assigned the three of us at the same table.  
“Oh.my.Merlin!” Giulia exclaimed and narrowed her eyes at me as if the sudden outburst of our ten year old sister was my fault. She purses her lips in annoyance and her red framed glasses slid down her nose like an old-school librarian as she points her book at Abelia. “Maria, will you get her to shut up already?”  
“Giulia,” I hissed at her and eyed Abelia on my left. She was beginning to hiccup from all the crying. “She’s only a kid.”  
“Exactly,” she replied simply. Matter of factly. “You’re still a baby, Abelia. Jesus, fique quieto.” Be quiet.  
She may be a big crier, but Abelia had the worst temper out of the four of us. And we all did everything in our power to make sure it never boiled over. Except for Giulia, who never really cared about anyone or anything other than her precious books.  
I ignored her and turned to Abelia. Her face was already twisting and reddening before shouting, “Você cheira a peixe!” You smell like fish!  
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “You know you’re not supposed to say things like that to your sister. Or anyone. It’s not nice.”  
Abelia shrugged her shoulders and adjusted the white lily crown on her head from slipping. “I don’t care. She started it.”  
Giulia rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who started it. You always bleeding start it.”  
“Not uh!”  
“Yeah uh!”  
“Not uh!”  
“Yeah uh!”  
And so it begins.  
The guests from Miguel’s side of the family started eyeing us weirdly. Oh. They had no idea what the life of a four sister family consisted of. I’ll clue you in: Endless. Drama.  
I lifted a hand to my forehead. “Can you two stop arguing? Giulia, you’re fourteen years old you should know better.”  
The look on her face made me regret even trying to stop the bickering in the first place. Abelia threw temper tantrums but Giulia knew how to use words that could make just about anyone feel horrible. Like I said, she didn’t care about anyone or anything.  
“You’re not mom. So stop trying to be.”  
I barely had any time to react to Giulia’s harsh words because Abelia grabbed the book out of Giulia’s hands and yanked it across the ballroom. And smacking our new brother-in-law in the face. The surprised look on Miguel’s face wasn’t what made the color to drain from my own face. It was Dula’s murderous glare sixty feet away.  
Giulia’s mouth hung open and we shared a nervous look. Dula was normally sunflowers and warm hugs; except for the past year where she gave the name bridezilla a whole new meaning.  
But Abelia had always been different from us. Fearless. Throwing cares to the wind, as Daddy says. Or in this case, throwing books across ballrooms. Merlin, after flinging Giulia’s copy of Little Women, she merely sat back down beside me and started eating her chicken. So normal.  
I could never be so cool.  
“Omigod, that was amazing.” Vera slides into the empty chair beside me. Dark eyes twinkling with interest and mischief and her hoop earrings looking heavy as ever. She was my cousin and best friend all rolled into one human-being which only ever happens once in a lifetime.  
“You should play Quidditch, Lia.” She calls her by her nickname, one we haven’t used since she turned nine and declared that nicknames were for “babies”. But she doesn’t mind it when Vera says it. Instead of scowling like Giulia, she smiles excitedly.  
“You really really think so? Like, I could be a Chaser?”  
“Hell yeah!” Vera exclaims and leans over to grab my glass of champagne but I smack her manicured hand away. Her nail color is always changing, always something bright. Today, a shining yellow that I can only assume was chosen because of Dula’s wedding theme colors. White and yellow. She ignores my smack and grabs a french fry off of Giulia’s plate. She doesn’t seem to care, or really notice.  
“But don’t tell my brother. Or your Dad for that matter. Oh, and avô (Grandfather). Bloody hell, what is up with the men in our family? ‘You must live and breathe futebol, nothing else!’” She imitates and we all laugh. I even sneak a peek at Giulia to find her smiling down at her phone. “It must be a portuguese thing,” Vera decides.  
“Or a Muggle thing,” I say.  
Every male member of our family are obsessed with futebol. Soccer. When soccer season comes around, every freaking guy in the family shows up at our house to scream and shout at the television in the living room. Abelia tried to watch it once with them but came to my bedroom ten minutes later claiming Tio (Uncle) Emanuel gave her a headache. He is the loudest out of them all. Which, is, pretty loud.  
Thank Merlin I am in Hogwarts during the soccer season now.  
“I think this belongs to you.”  
Dula has made her way to our table, looking a little less angry. A copy of Little Women in her hands and Giulia hastily takes it back and searches for the page she was last on. Giulia could be in a room with a over a hundred people and get lost in a whole different world. Her and I were different, but there were times I often wished I was somewhere else, someone else, too.  
My oldest sister turns and raises her eyebrows to Abelia. “O que você fez?”  
Abelia continues eating her chicken strips and shrugs. “I didn’t do anything.”  
Dula sighs, loudly. “Abelia. Miguel’s going to have a damn bruise now because of what you did! Why did you throw Giulia’s book at him?”  
“It wasn’t at him. It just happened to hit him. Sorry.” She didn’t even try to sound sorry.  
Dula’s face turned as red as a tomato. Oh, Jesus Christ.  
“Now all of my wedding photos will be ruined! The least you could do is apologize to him.”  
Abelia waved a hand in the air. “Sure. No problem.”  
“Right. Now. Abelia Francis Almada.”  
Oh shit. Abelia turned and looked at Dula. It looked as if they were having some sort of staring contest. If it were a staring contest, Dula won because a minute later, Abelia was jumping out of her chair and marching over to Miguel. Who’s right eye was pretty swollen.  
“You should try makeup.” Vera pipes up.  
“What?” Dula narrows her eyes at her.  
Vera sighs. “I mean, on Miguel. Put some concealer around his eye. Pino does it when he gets hurt during soccer games.”  
“I heard Cristiano Ronaldo does that,” I add. Pino is Vera’s older brother, aka my older cousin, and he is obsessed with Ronaldo.  
Vera grins at me. “Exactly why he does it.”  
“Hey,” a familiar deep voice greets us behind me. We all turned to face James Potter II, wearing a black button down and black pants. His dark hair a tousled mess and a beer in his hand. He takes Abelia’s seat beside me. “Nice dress. You look like a bumblebee.” He teases me.  
“Ha ha.” I say and motion to his all black attire. “What's with all the color? Seriously, You're gonna blind someone. It's so bright!”  
“You look like you're dressed for a funeral,” Vera says. James’ jaw drops dramatically. “Is this not a funeral? Oh, shit. My bad, Miguel looks like his life is over so. . .”  
“Shut it.” Dula snaps.  
He smiles sweetly. “Have you seen him? Did your dad finally beat the crap out of him?”  
This question is aimed towards me but I feign a response. Dula looks absolutely murderous and is probably regretting inviting James already. Not like she wouldn’t have; he and the other boys have been my best friends since elementary school. But James can be. . . honest. Sometimes brutally.  
“He’s going to have an ugly ass black-eye tomorrow. That sucks.”  
“Yes,” Dula replied dryly. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious. And where did you get that?” She points at the beer in his hand.  
He shrugs. “The bar.”  
“You’re seventeen-years-old!”  
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” he said sarcastically, and because he is an absolute idiot, he rolled his eyes.  
Dula’s eyes flashed. “That’s it,” she warned. “You’re not getting any pastel de natas.”  
James’ lips parted. “You wouldn’t.”  
“It’s my wedding,” she crossed her arms, “What I say goes.”  
“Uhhhhhhhh.” James groaned beside me and put the beer down onto the table. Vera’s grabby hand went for it but I moved it out of reach and smiled when she narrowed her eyes at me. James was frowning but there was a shadow of a smile that you’d have to be extremely lucky to witness. Or be the cause of it happening. “Fine. I’m...sorry.”  
Dula smirked. “Huh? What was that? I can’t hear you over the loud music playing on my wedding day.”  
He put his arms up, like he was trying to calm an animal. Like my sister was a wild lion. “All right. I shouldn’t have mocked you on your precious first wedding day. I’m sorry.”  
“On my only first wedding day,” Dula replied arguably, and then she softened. “And apology accepted, you little punk.” She strided over and quickly mussed up his hair. Which he has always hated when she did that growing up.  
“Damn it, Maria.” James looked over at me.  
“What did I do?” I asked, surprised.  
“Your sister is so overbearing. No wonder Miguel always looks like his balls are twisted.”  
“James!” I exclaimed, the heat rushing to my face almost instantly. That’s the worst thing when it came to have three best friends who are guys: they talk like there are no boundaries. Well. James and Kiran talk like there are no boundaries. But Soren at least tries not to when I’m around. He’s the most gentleman of the three of them.  
And I am not naive! No matter what those idiots say, I’m not that innocent. I think.  
I scan the crowded dance floor looking for the other two. It took me only a second to spot Soren because he was being basically sexualized by my drunk pretty cousins. He kept tripping over his feet and nearly rammed Avó into the ground that I snorted. James gave me a confused look so I pointed at our friend and he laughed.  
“Hey,” I yelled over the music to him. The DJ started a portuguese cult favorite and the portugees were going crazy over it. “Where’s Kiran?”  
“No clue. Last I saw him he said he was going to take a dump and that was an hour ago.”  
I pointedly ignored what he’d said and made eye contact with Vera who was typing away like a madwoman on her iphone. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Huh?”  
“Where’s Kiran?” I asked her. Vera rolled her eyes as if I’d ask the most absurd thing in the world. “How should I know? I’m not his babysitter. He could be dry humping Tia (Aunt) Beatriz for all I care.”  
I shuddered. “Did you really need to go there?”  
She gave me a pointed look in response and replied, “Yes.”  
I looked over at Giulia to find her still enthralled in her book. “Well, did you really need to say . . . dry humping, in front of my little sister?”  
“Oh my God,” Giulia said looking up from her book, “I’m going to be a fourth year. You act as if I’m the same age as Abelia.”  
Abelia strutted over and grabbed a chicken nugget off the plate she had left. “I know about dry humping!” She said midst chewing.  
“No, you do not.” I tell her shortly.  
“Yes I do!” She replies, her eyes going wide. “I’m ten. And I’ve watched HBO!”  
I gasped.  
Abelia patted me on the head. “Don’t worry, Maria. I’ll tell you all about dry humping when you’re older.”  
I swatted at her hand and looked around the ballroom where I spotted Daddy trying to comfort Avó who was patting her eyes with a napkin right when a slow song came on. “Why don’t you go ask Daddy to dance?” I asked her in hopes of averting everyone’s attention to something cute like a little girl dancing with her father than to my reddening face.  
“Oooh, Daddy would love that!” Dula gushed. “I can ask the DJ to play a Bryan Adams song? It would make him so happy!”  
Abelia didn’t look all too happy about this idea, but she nodded nevertheless. “Okay,” she mumbled and followed Dula to the DJ, who played Bryan Adams hit Summer of 69, one of Daddy’s favorites. The smile on Daddy’s face when Abelia beams and starts making him twirl her like a ballerina on the dance floor makes me glad I suggested it in the first place. Giulia and I share a smile for a brief moment. Dula shoots us a thumbs up. I know a lot of people say their dad is the best dad in the world, but Daddy really is the best dad in the whole world. He’s a Muggle with four Witches as daughters and though he doesn’t understand completely how the magical world really works, he tries. He works so hard to make sure we have everything we could ever really need or want, but what he doesn’t realize is all four of us are happy to just have him in our lives.  
Kiran plopped next to Vera, his curly black hair sticking to his forehead. He looked straight at James. “Why don’t you ever twirl me like that?”  
“Sorry, babe. I’ll make up for it later,” James replied and then winked.  
“Um, hello?” I waved a hand dramatically. “Where the heck have you been?”  
Vera snorted while Kiran shook his head with a smile like can-you-believe-this. “Classic Maria. Even when I could’ve been kidnapped she still can’t bloody fucking swear.”  
“Not everyone swears every two seconds,” Vera tells him. She’s very argumentative. Especially with Kiran. Which he bites into every time.  
He laughs just to piss her off. I can tell Vera is biting the inside of her cheek trying not to kill him.  
“Well,” I said loudly, “were you kidnapped?”  
“No,” he replied with another laugh. “Was playing soccer outside with Pino and your other cousins, I can’t remember their fucking names. Why do you guys have so many damn cousins? I’m Indian and I thought my family were like rabbits.”  
Giulia looked up from her book with her brows raised shot me a look. I sighed. Kiran is very different at home with his strict Indian parents, he has to be different. Proper and polite and no swearing. With us, he gets to do whatever he wants. I usually let it slide but we’re at a family event. And my family’s event? Not happening.  
“Kiran-”  
“Holy shit!” Soren blurted as he reached the table. He had sweat stains under the armpits of his white button down from all the dancing (seriously this kid will probably dance till tomorrow night if he can) and out of breath. He was looking at me. “Holy shit!”  
“What?!” We all asked urgently. I scanned the ballroom quickly but found Abelia dancing with Dula and let go of the breath I was holding. My heart quit beating like a fast drum in my chest.  
“I was just doing the macarena with Miguel’s grandma and -”  
James snorted. “Yeah we saw.”  
Soren ignored him, still looking me straight in the eyes and looking like he saw a ghost. It was kind of creepy. “She told me her grandson finally gained the courage to ask his “future wife” to dance and she pointed her out to me.”  
Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God.  
“It’s-”  
I felt a tap on my shoulder and slowly turned to find Joey Costa. Miguel’s twenty year old brother who, for the past year, has been sending his annoying owl to my window to go see a movie. Or get ice cream. Or go mini golfing. Etc. Etc. Etc. I noticed his stares during the ceremony to which I pointedly ignored, but once the reception started and I had the boys, Vera, and my sisters to focus on I really just forgot all about dodging him. And here was to ask me for a dance.  
Oh my God.  
“Wow,” he said loudly as he looked me up and down which was weird on so many levels because I was sitting down so like, what? “You look cute!”  
I grimaced. “Thanks, Joey. Nice suit.”  
“Ah, this old thing? I have ones much better than this thing.” He replied seriously.  
James was almost shaking from trying to control his laughter next to me and I refrained myself from kicking him in the groin. I smiled politely. “Oh? . . .”  
Joey scratched the back of his head. “I’ve been struggling all night to gain the courage to ask you something, actually.”  
“You don’t say.”  
“I was hoping, um, that you would like to dance. With me?”  
“Oh. . . Joey. . . Um. . .”  
An arm swiveled it’s way across my shoulders and I turned my head to see James shoot a wide smile at Joey. “Sorry, dude, I don’t feel like sharing my girl tonight. But Vera’s single!”  
A look of surprise on Joey’s face. “Huh? Your sister didn’t say anything about you dating someone. She said all the boys you’d be hanging around with are just friends?”  
“Yes, well, friends can turn into - “  
“Loverrrrs,” James literally purred. I wanted to freaking kill him. I secretly elbowed him in the ribs and smiled sweetly. I turned back to Joey. “I’m sorry, Joey. You know how crazy this wedding planning has been for my sister - I didn’t want to bother her with my love life.”  
He nodded, seeming to buy this whole facade. Thank GOD. He looked over my head and at Vera with hopeful eyes. “So you’re single?”  
Vera hastily grabs Kiran’s closest hand and raises it like winning the prized pig. He raises his eyebrows at her with a bemused expression. “Nope! In love and all that crap here!”  
Joey lets out a sigh. “All right. I guess I’ll see you later?” He asks me.  
“Sure,” I reply. Hope not, I think.  
He walks away. Vera immediately lets go of Kiran’s hand like it’s contaminated with diseases and Kiran is smirking. “I didn’t realize you were in love and ‘all that crap’ with me.”  
“Shut up,” she grunts.  
“Aw, I love you too, sweetums!” He gushes and tries to pinch her cheeks but she quickly dodges him.  
Usually I’m all for watching Vera and Kiran banter like an old married couple but my entire body is fully aware that James’s arm is laced around my shoulders. Still. He smelled like the cologne Daddy let him borrow. The hairs on my shoulders begin standing when his thumb rubs slightly on my forearm. This electrified feeling is . . . unusual and new. When his thigh got closer to mine, I looked at him.  
He was already looking down at me, like he was expecting me with questions. “He’s still watching,” he says with a nod in another direction. I averted my gaze slightly to see that Joey was still watching from the bar. He was nursing a coke.  
“Oh my God,” I said out loud.  
James smirked. “How dare he ask my girlfriend to dance. And right in front of me!” He mocks. I smack his shoulder with a smile. I love seeing James joke like this because it doesn’t happen very often. He’s usually serious or getting into trouble due to his family life. I wish he’d joke and smile like this all the time.  
Kiran bangs his fist on the table. “Is there no honor?”  
“Does nobody respect the bro code anymore?” Soren adds with a shake of his head.  
Jokesters. As soon as one got it going, the others had to add to it. It was like there was no end. Vera and I shared an amused expression. Idiots. But they were our idiots.  
“Wanna dance?” James asks me so softly I almost didn’t even hear him. I raised a brow at him and he does the same. That’s something he does, mirrors my facial expressions. It used to bug me so much when we were kids but over the last couple years I’ve grown to kind of like it.  
“I might step on your feet,” I warn him but he stands up anyway.  
“These shoes have killed all the nerves in my feet so stomp all you want.”  
“You have my permission to do it,” Soren tells me before James and I drift onto the dance floor.  
The utter shock is hard for me to mask and James rolls his brown eyes at me when I won’t shut my mouth. James and I have been best friends for over a decade and he’s never danced. To fast songs or slow songs. At the Winter Ball last year his date followed Vera and I into the bathroom to complain about him never leaving his chair. Cassandra really liked him and he wouldn’t even at least stand on the dance floor for her, but here he was putting both his hands on my waist and swaying. A little awkwardly but still. It was all for show, to help get Joey off my back, I had to remind myself anyway.  
“He’s an idiot for what he said,” he says suddenly.  
“What? For asking me to dance? Yeah, you’d think he’d get the message when I didn’t answer any of his letters.”  
“No,” James says and shakes his head. “For saying you look cute.”  
I roll my eyes. “Shut up. Not my fault Dula has horrible taste in bridesmaid dresses.”  
“You look beautiful, Maria,” he tells me seriously. “You always do.”  
My lips parted slightly. This is so unlike him, he’s never said anything like that to me. I mean, he’s never said anything about my appearance whether it be negative or positive ever. And James is just always honest, about everything, to the point where some made it a point to not ask him things afraid of the answer. His lips were in a straight line, a peculiar look in his eyes like he was wondering what I was thinking. Like if it was okay for him to tell me that.  
“What even is this song?” I asked wanting to change the subject, but some reason I really did want to know. I don’t know why but I wanted to remember this moment completely and replay it in my head later.  
For some reason, I had a sudden feeling that everything was about to change completely.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Numero Dois

(END OF) AUGUST

2

 

MEMORIES ARE REALLY IMPORTANT TO me. Ever since Mummy died eight years ago, I was all about remembering her. Trying to fixturate between real memories or dreams that I thought were real, so I was constantly asking Daddy and Dula about her. Like, didn’t she always smell like coconuts? Wasn’t she always complaining about being so hot, even if it was like thirty degrees outside? She loved listening to Paul Anka, right? When I got a little older and suddenly Giulia and Abelia were sporting all these questions, I really held close to the memories so that they could be their memories too. It was all we had of our Mother, except for videos and pictures.  
So from a young age I made it a big deal to hold onto memories I didn’t want to forget. Of people I didn’t want to forget.   
Kiran had moved across the street. His parents: strict and Indian and already searching for a future “Ideal Indian Wife” for their young son. Kiran Patel. The first boy to join me and Vera’s duo. We were around five when he and his parents moved into that big white house. Mummy knew Kiran’s mother from Hogwarts all those years ago but they weren’t very friendly. Something about one of them stealing another’s boyfriend? I guess Mummy wanted to make up for whatever drama had ensued because she invited them over for lunch in our backyard immediately.  
“Are you adjusting well?” Mom had asked them. She had baby Giulia clinged to her hip, and even at two years old I remember she had that same curious glisten in her eyes.   
“The house has a few hundred leaks, but our Kiran seems to be enjoying himself,” Mrs. Patel had said.  
He was looking at me and Vera. His chin held a small dimple. His tiny body was bursting with energy.  
That was Kiran. He was gregarious and spoiled. Back then, he liked german shepherds and swimming. Later, he liked Quidditch and Firewhiskey.  
We ran and he followed us all the way to the treehouse. After that, we spent every waking moment together, just the three of us that summer. We had sleepovers in the living room and ate sticky popcorn. Turned the backyard into a battlefield where we poked each other with pirate swords (twigs). Daddy took us to the beach so many times that summer that we named the imaginary giant squid Hector Sporticus The Third.   
When we started Magical Primary that September, our threesome became a fivesome.  
Kiran sat next to Soren in the classroom across the hall. He sat next to me in Daddy’s truck that afternoon telling me we had a new friend that had parents who could read numbers to know the future. I didn’t believe it at first, but apparently there is such a thing called Arithmancy.   
Soren Yun. He brought books filled with dragons and history of magic that first day he came off the truck with us. His parents were exotic and unusual - he was excited and a little bit shy all at once. His ears so big we called him Dumbo for the longest time. Fortunately for him he grew into them.  
Soren was creative and amiable. He liked bouncing on his feet, dragons, and falling in love.  
And then James told me I had dirty socks during recess. His cheeks were plump then, and rosy.  
His father was the most famous Wizard in the world and his mother got paid billions to kick ass in Quidditch. He liked climbing rocks, chewing gum, and never keeping his mouth shut. He often was the one who got us into trouble, though later he and Kiran were practically partners in crime. Dark messy hair and a charming smile. James Sirius Potter. He was unpredictable and playful. Reckless and honest. Like a wild ride on a rollercoaster. James liked beer and throwing pebbles at my window.   
When our group formed all those years ago, not once did I ever think that we’d grow apart. The five of us were always together, even at recess the other kids wouldn’t even try to separate us because they knew. Everyone knew. We were stuck like glue to each other. Or magnified to each other.  
As we got to Hogwarts and a little older, I admit that I panicked. Vera was the first to stray a little bit from the group. She grew up with a brother and being around three more boys didn’t give her the feminine friendship that she secretly craved for. She joined clubs like Art and Chudley Cannons Fan club and even Hogwarts Choir for a little while. She spent a lot of time with friends she could go shopping in Hogsmeade with without anyone burping in her face.. It’s okay, because I understand, because I had three sisters and being around the dynamics of boys was refreshing and their friendship was something I didn't realize I craved.  
Kiran joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team during First Year and became good friends with those guys simply because he spent majority of their time training and competing. None of us but James (though his heart was never fully into it like him) really cared for Quidditch so he had his teammates.  
Soren had girlfriends. He wasn’t and isn’t like, some boy who dates multiple girls at one time. Soren is a hopeless romantic and I blame it on all the books he reads. He claims he doesn’t read romance but I’ve caught him reading Pride and Prejudice and The Notebook. He falls in love easily but also gets his heart broken easily.   
With James. . . Well, James can be secretive. He can be brutally honest telling you all about yourself but you won’t know a single thing about him. He’s dated a couple girls but nothing ever serious, in fact I don’t even think they’ve been to his house. Him bringing a girl to meet his parents is a big deal because most girls just want to say that they dated Harry Potter’s son. And he has other friends, granted their usually older and probably no good for him. The thing is, James and I understand each other, on all levels of the world. When Mummy died, James didn’t leave our house for days afterwards; just to make sure we were okay. His Dad actually came to the house in a panic looking for him because James was so preoccupied with being there for us he forgot to even tell his parents. And I will never forget that. But no matter how hard he tries to act like a hard ass, his favorite place to be is at my house where my ten year old sister forces him to paint her toenails.  
“You're being messy!” Abelia accuses him but I know, and James know, she's not serious. She’s sitting on the floor of the living room with her feet still as rocks while James exams his work, a bottle of hot pink nail polish in his hand. He inches closer, his brown eyes narrow for a whole of five seconds before lurching away.  
“They look perfect to me; but when was the last time you've washed those things? Yuck!” He teases her by fake gagging.   
“Bet not as long as you've washed your stinky feet!” She throws back and sticks her tongue out at him.  
I'm sitting on the couch with my legs crossed like a pretzel. The Princess Bride is playing on the TV which is my all-time favorite romance ever, but I'm watching them with a secret smile on my face instead. Merlin, if the people at our school could see James Potter right now. Even if I had pictures nobody would believe me; they'd think I used some sort of magic to fake this or something. Not like I'd ever show or tell anyone; this is too sacred, so gentle that I'm afraid to scare it all away. I tuck it safely in my memories.  
I'm selfish when it comes to this. But I try to make up for it.  
It's been a whole two weeks since Dula’s wedding. Two weeks have gone by where I've failed to mention our dance and how he'd said I was beautiful. That I “always am.” I've also failed to just forget about it, but it replays in my head like a mantra while I lie in bed trying to sleep. It doesn't help that I see him every bloody day.   
“What are you smiling about?” Abelia asks me. Her lips curl in a wicked grin. “Did you just fart?”  
“No! Gross!” I grab the pillow next to me and chuck it at her flimsily; she dodges it with ease.  
James laughs and strides over to poke me in the side. “You’re thinking about Hogwarts, aren’t you?” He flops down onto the couch beside me.  
Huh. That's right. It’s the last weekend of August, which means it’s almost September and back to Hogwarts I go. I love Hogwarts; I look forward to being back every. Year. Mummy was right when she said it was the best school in the whole world. And I dunno, I just feel so much closer to her being in her native House: Hufflepuff.  
I mean, did you think I’d be in any other House?  
Abelia jumps up immediately. “Maria! You’re going to make my cupcakes, right? You always do! You have to!” She exclaims.  
Since I’ve been going to Hogwarts, I have baked her specialty cupcakes (flavor to her liking) because I feel incredibly awful that I am leaving her behind. And she also cries for hours which is so bloody annoying. It’s become nearly a decade long tradition I am truly surprised my little sister is even reminding me of it. Abelia loves it so much because, in her words “they make her popular” with the other kids when she takes them to school on her first day. At least I know she never sits alone at lunch time.  
“Of course I’m gonna. What kind do you want? Red velvet with cream cheese frosting?” I lick my lips for dramatic effect, but she makes a face.  
“Nah. I want margarita cupcakes!”  
My eyebrows raise. “Yeah. Right. Go tell Daddy I’m baking you margarita cupcakes.”  
She sighs. “Fiiiiine. I want . . .” She thinks about this for nearly a minute. “Dark chocolate with peanut butter ALL over it. Noah likes peanut butter.”  
James and I share a bemused smile. He says, “Oh, well if Noah likes peanut butter. . .”  
She turns away quickly to hide the pink in her cheeks. “Shut up.”  
I can't stop myself from giggling. It's just so cute that my baby sister has a crush on the boy next door. Fortunately they're in the same class. Unfortunately we have Daddy's rule. And she's only ten so I would never approve of her having a boyfriend anyway! She’s way too young!  
“When you and Noah get married I better be the maid-of-honor!” I poke her in the side and she squirms away from me.  
“Hey! I wanna be the best man!” James said.  
I raise an eyebrow. “Why should you be in the wedding at all? It's my cupcakes that brings them together.”  
“Actually it's him living next door that brings them together. Nice try.” He counters back with a big ol’ grin.   
“You don't even live here!”  
He shrugs, “I kind of do.”  
“True, true.”  
Abelia wraps her arms around James's neck with a grin, apparently all ready forgiving him and probably making me work for her forgiveness. “You should just move in already. Don’t go to school. We can get bunk beds!”  
“You already have a roommate,” I remind her. “What about Giulia?”  
She shrugs. Unbothered. “She kinda sucks.”  
“Abelia! No she doesn't. That room is yours for most of the year anyway.”  
“Jeez. I said Giulia kinda sucks!”  
“Nice to know how you guys really feel about me.” Giulia is standing on the bottom of the stairs in her purple pajamas holding a book and a skewed expression. Even though she’s on the stairs I can’t help but notice how much she’s grown; I still can’t believe she’s in Hogwarts.. Last year I nearly rammed into her in the loo and almost asked why she was there.  
“Well, your book shelves take up way too much room! Maybe if we had a bunk bed when James sleeps over you wouldn’t suck so much?”  
Giulia scowls in response. “As if I enjoy sharing breathing room with a ten year old brat all summer.” She turns her attention to me. “Did you know she put spongebob stickers on all of my folders? Natalie Gray is literally going to snicker about it and embarrass me.”  
James, for the love of God, chuckles. I pinch his arm.  
“Ow!” he yelps, and then pouts adorably, and I kinda hate that pout, because it’s super cute and I’d rather it wasn’t.“That hurt.”  
“Good,” I say simply and ask Abelia, “Did you really do that?”  
She chews on her bottom lip without answering. Which means she is completely guilty.   
“I told you,” says Giulia. She leaves the stairs and sits down on one of the armchairs. She looks around the living room. “Where’s Daddy?”  
The three of us turn our attention to James for an answer; he’s been working for Daddys landscaping company, just the two of them, and if someone were to know where he was, it’s James. James’s been working for him every summer for the past two summers which meant he was here more often than usual during vacation, a fact that I found myself liking, and Abelia growing accustomed too. He’s here almost every night, stays for dinner, plays whatever annoying game she wants to play, and sends me beautiful and irritating smiles. Urgh.   
He shrugs his shoulders and picks up his can of cola before taking a sip. “I think he said something about there being a problem with the chickens.”  
The chickens?.... I think to myself. What sort of problem can chickens even have? Abelia stands up immediately looking stricken; she absolutely adores them like they were her own children. She named the seven of them after the seven dwarves in Snow White. Grumpy is sorta sweet, Happy, ironically, is a total asshat.   
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I assure her. “They’re probably lying too many eggs and Daddy doesn’t want me making scrambled eggs everyday again.”  
She seems to consider this and nods her head glumly. I pat the couch cushion beside me, in the middle of James and I (Lord knows I need to spaces between us), and she curls next to me. I breathe in her hair like I used to when she was a baby, except she smells like strawberries now thanks to her kids shampoo.  
The back door opens and closes and a moment later Daddy emerges from the kitchen and stands beneath the threshold. He’s like those dad’s in western films, who wears work boots always covered in dirt and mud, has never worn a suit in his life, and a baseball cap always on top his head. He lets everyone go before him at intersections and he worries a whole lot about us.   
So when he’s looking at us, heartbroken, I realize the problem with the chickens is far worse.  
Lovely.


End file.
